


"It's okay to be sad."

by jodieoswald



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Breakfast, F/F, Fluff, Gay, Grief, Pain, Stars, Trauma, beach, set after THAT scene in the special, very angsty, very gay, what happens after the screen when black
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:28:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28509672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jodieoswald/pseuds/jodieoswald
Summary: There's a lot that Yasmin Khan and the Doctor need to talk about, and with an otherwise empty TARDIS and some much needed downtime after several freshly traumatic events, they have the time and space.
Relationships: The Doctor/Yasmin Khan, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 9
Kudos: 88





	"It's okay to be sad."

**Author's Note:**

> yes. i'm doing this.

_"It's okay to be sad."_

Several days had passed since these words had left Yaz's mouth. Since then, strong unresolved tension between the two women began to cling to the atmosphere of the TARDIS, infecting the corridors and the rooms, thickening by the minute, letting them grow sick from it as time trudged by. They remained in their spaces, Yaz in her room, the Timelord by the console, letting themselves wallow in their sadness and reflect on the events of the past ten months (or three decades). 

Sometimes, their paths would cross, on the way to the kitchen, bathroom or to fetch a tool from the workshop. They tried small talk once when they were both in the kitchen making a cuppa, or rather, the Doctor did, but it just made the tension worse when Yaz replied with one word and left. They didn’t speak a word to each other after that, ignoring each other's existence as if it would help make the pain go away. 

Now, the Doctor leans on the console and continues to ponder the departure of the two boys that she loves so dearly, that she holds so close to her heart, grieving them, missing them, all while figuring out the complexities of her remaining companion's mind and feelings. The way that Yaz had shoved her, and the way she could have never expected it. The desire for Yaz's touch after almost twenty years hadn't been fulfilled in the way she dreamed. Tinkering with one of the control panels, she tries to distract herself from replaying that moment of physical aggression, that impact on her chest, the force of it all, and the hurt on the brunette woman's face, in her mind, over and over. She slams her fists onto the keyboard of buttons when she fails to. 

Her breathing is ragged and shallow as she tries to regain control of her thoughts, her jaw clenched shut, her body stiff and still so achy from that stone slab she spent so many nights on. She'd had so much time to think in that prison yet she hadn't even wondered if the timing would go wrong. How she could’ve missed so much of their lives because of a stupid miscalculation in the TARDIS systems. How Yaz would feel. How she'd taken her to see the stars and then just left her, on Earth, to fend for herself. Trust, trust from her, from Yaz - she may never get that back. 

A whimper leaves her lips. Her body tightens as she slips to the floor from the console to sit, knees to her chest, her face pale and her body and mind so, so tired.

Yaz, in her room, meanwhile, has a potion of hurt, anger, frustration, sorrow and sadness, that has been brewing for ten months, in her stomach. Sitting on the edge of her bed with a lump in her throat, her body remains numb despite the raw emotions inside, her face blank, her eyes on the wall in front. To be back in the spaceship that has granted her the wishes of a million lifetimes, with the woman that piloted those wishes to reality is bittersweet. She'd never touched the Doctor the way she did in Graham's living room - oh, how she wished she could say that sentence in a different, better context - and it hurt to recall. 

A tear falls onto her jeans and she lets out a sigh. Her heart hurts and she knows it's because she needs to be with the Doctor right this second. She can't afford to lose her again, yet she can’t muster up the strength to face her again. 

Yasmin lays back onto the bed to look up to the ceiling, and finds glow in the dark stars still there from when the Doctor stuck them up in her room, after accidentally breaking the program that let the TARDIS project much more realistic stars and galaxies onto the ceiling. That program was only there in the first place because they’d taken a two week break from adventures (she’d been ill and bedbound) and Yaz had missed the stars so much that the spaceship did it for her, showing a different galaxy every night. Oh, those two weeks. Lying in bed, the Doctor constantly coming into her room, never leaving her for more than an hour at a time, bringing her tea and biscuits and medicine and wet flannels. Those two weeks she’d learnt so much about the alien, she’d been given a tiny snippet into her life before the fam through bedtime stories and little conversations whilst she sat beside her on her bed, playing with her hair. A special sort of glint in the Doctor’s eye was always there when she talked about her past and Yaz could never tell if it was happy or sad. She’d stare into that glint in her eyes during those stories and conversations whilst the blonde would be looking up at the stars on her ceiling. That was the only time Yaz wouldn’t look at the stars above her - when the Doctor was there. The only thing she loved more than the universe was the woman who’d shown it to her.

Reminiscing on that day and those two weeks, the endless apologies she got from the Timelord for breaking it, the laughs from Graham and Ryan when they found out, she starts to sob. It hurts. The tears and the whines hurt her throat, her body sick of the everlasting sadness. How simple things used to be when they hardly knew the trauma of one another, or were ignorant to it, hidden underneath the surface, hurts.

Another hour passes before the Doctor gets up from the floor. Dusting herself off, she scrunches her face and shakes her arms and legs, pulling herself together. Time to think and regret had been used up in those nineteen years, no more of her life could be wasted on it, she decided.

"Need to be strong now, Doctor," she whispers, "it hurts, but y'need to be strong. For Yaz," she repeats those last two words in her head as she walks.

There's a quiet, almost unnoticeable knock at Yaz's bedroom door. She croaks out a yes before it opens slowly, and a blonde figure approaches her. 

"How are y'feeling?" she says, a smile plastered on her face. Yasmin scoffs at this.

"Don't play pretend, Doctor," she sighs and motions for her to come in. Tears are still drying on her cheeks, her eyes blotched red. "You don't need to smile for me,"

The Doctor swallows whilst approaching her, closing the door behind so the two are only lit up by the dim lamp on the bedside table. 

“I wanted t’ check up on y’, Yaz-”

"I'm hurt, Doctor, really," Yaz blurts and looks down at her hands. "I'm hurt, upset, worried, numb, confused, angry. I'm hurt that you left us. I'm upset that Graham and Ryan left. I'm worried about you. My body is tired and numb. I'm confused why you left and I'm angry that you did. My life was on pause for those ten months, I did nothing, I said near to nothing, I grieved you, but I couldn’t move on. I made it my mission to bring you back because I don’t think I could’ve lived without you. You saw that sleeping bag on the other TARDIS, all those post-it notes. I know you did. You were my whole life, Doctor, and you fucking left me. I had nothing without you."

The words strike her in the same way Yaz had shoved her. She doesn’t say anything and the two women look at each other for several long moments. 

The Doctor closes her eyes and furrows her eyebrows before she speaks. “Yaz, oh, Yaz,” she rubs her face in her hands, repeating her name. “You have so many other reasons to live than _me_. Your family loves you. You have an incredible job. You have a home,”

“I- I don’t have a job. I quit. I had no motivation. My family, yes, I love my family, but they’re not _you._ The TARDIS is the place I called home. But I guess home is a place of comfort, a stable place, and if I can’t trust that it’ll always be there then I can’t call it one anymore. You’ll both go, one day.”

A pause. 

“Yasmin Khan. I’ll be with you for as long as I can be with you. But you understand that there will be a goodbye. I’ll spend your whole life with you if you want me to but you can’t spend my whole life with me. That’s just how it is. If I could- If I could,” she looks up to the woman beside her, eyes welling up. “If I could change that, I- I would,” she gulps. “And, it might, it might be that we’re separated, or something happens. I will use all my might to try and make sure that doesn’t happen again but,”

“But?” 

“Travelling with me, there’s always a risk. It’s dangerous. It might happen again. I’m not going to lie or give false promises. You’re too special to me for that.”

“I don’t care about that, Doctor. I just want travel with you,”

A sigh. “I know, I- I know. But y’ should care. I want y’ to care. I want y’ to be careful and value your own safety. I want y’ to have other things in your life than this. I want y’ to have other reasons to live, so if something happens,” she doesn’t finish her sentence.

“You grieve me before I’m even gone, Doctor,”

“I have to.”

“No, you don’t. Why can’t you just live _now_? Don’t think about the future after I’m gone. Don’t think about what _could_ happen. Think about what _is_ happening. Don’t push me away because you’re scared. Please. I want my life to _just_ be this, I want to go on adventures and I want to spend as much time with you as I can, whilst I can, and in the meantime I can and will be careful. I want us to enjoy our time together rather than spoiling it with worries about the future. Can’t we just… Take it one day at a time?”

“Okay,” the Doctor pauses. “Okay. I- I just want y’ to be sure. I don’t want to rid y’ of a safe, secure life back home.”

“I’ll take this over safety anyday. No risk, no reward, right?” Yaz pauses as if to remember something. “The joy is worth the pain.”

The Doctor feels a tug at her lips. Captain Jack gives good advice.

There was silence for a few minutes, the two women relishing in the words just spoken.

"Doctor, I wanted to ask… How long were you in prison for?" Yaz almost whispers.

She almost believes the Doctor won't reply, when she says, "Not that long."

"Doctor. How long?" Frustration and impatience takes control of her words immediately.

"Yaz, it was only some time."

"I'll get Jack in this TARDIS right now and get him to tell me if you don't tell me exactly how long you were in that prison for," Yaz snaps.

The Doctor looks almost taken aback, then sighs but gives in, avoiding eye contact. "31 years, give or take."

Silence fills the room along with shock. Yaz's eyes widen, but she doesn't say anything. She doesn't know what to say. So, instead, she wraps her arms around the woman next to her as tight as she can. Both of their bodies' melt into each other, slotting together perfectly. Weak muscles and protruding ribs can be felt under layers of fabric by Yaz and her heart sinks further.

"I'm so, so sorry. I'm so selfish," she finally replies, her eyes shut. "I'm sorry for being so aggressive. I just assumed-"

“It wasn’t that bad, I promise, I’m okay. Time flew by, honestly. Goes quick when you’re a Timelord.”

“Docto-” the brunette stops herself and breathes, as to not let anger take over. “Doctor, don’t try to soften the blow. I didn’t exactly do it for you and I don’t need you to do it for me. Please.”

“Y-” the Doctor begins.

“Don’t try to argue with me, or change the subject. I’m too tired to pretend everything is okay, Doctor. You must get tired of it too. So, just for tonight, please, just don’t try to pretend. Let your guard down, for me,”

She nods once, slightly.

“So,” Yaz continues. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being so aggressive and selfish and not considering your feelings or your time in prison. I’m sorry for shoving you in the way I did and I’m sorry for snapping so much. I’m-” tears begin to well up as her words are carried away by her sea of emotions. 

"Shhh," the Timelord places a finger to her lips. "No need for an apology. You were right to be hurt. I didn't even think about whether it could go wrong. I didn't think about how it could hurt you." She cups her jaw with a hand and strokes her soft skin with her thumb. "It's over now, and it’s okay,"

The two women let tears reign free down their faces, giving watery smiles.

"I don't think I'll be able to let you out of my sight ever again," she chuckles. A moment of silence prevails, before Yaz yawns and flops back onto the bed. 

"Tired?" 

"Just a little,"

"Me too," the Timelord joins her, laying back to look at the ceiling. "Ah! I forgot about the plastic stars! They're rubbish," Yaz doesn't have to look, but she knows that the Doctor is scrunching up her nose. "I ought to fix the projection program. I'll put it on the top of my list!"

"You have a list?" 

"'Course? All th' stuff that needs doin' is on there! Although I change th' order rather a lot. But it's all up 'ere," she taps her temple. It’s as if her accent becomes stronger when she becomes more enthusiastic. "I never forget it."

"Ah, yeah. Y'definitely haven't had to ask me to remind you to do somethin'."

"Oi! I have great memory, thanks!" 

"Hm. I'll still jot it down for y', though,"

The Doctor groans before they both laugh. Rambling to someone is definitely something the Doctor missed doing and that Yaz missed listening to. The previous discomfort both women had been experiencing for so long had been lifted, and their hearts felt light, complete, for the moment. It felt nice to forget everything for a second.

"Right," Yaz sits up, "I'm going to sleep.”

"Ah!" The Doctor jumps up and goes to open the door. "I'll leave y' to it. Goodnight Yaz!"

"You can stay, Doctor, if y' like, you're probably tired, right?"

"Had a kip when Jack came n' rescued me," the Doctor smiled. It was an unconsciously habitual excuse. She was still used to stopping herself getting attached, despite the conversation they’d just had. “Won’t need another sleep for a while,”

Yaz swallowed. "Okay. Goodnight, Doctor. Come wake me if you need me. Please don’t be sad on your own,”

“I’ll be okay!”

An eyebrow was raised in response.

“I’ll come find y’ if I’m not. I promise.” 

The door was closed, and Yaz was both hesitant to leave the Doctor roaming the corridors of the TARDIS by herself and feeling a tad upset to be on her own again. Exhaustion catches up quickly with Yaz, though, and soon this worry is washed away and she is pulled to sleep.

A mug smashes in the kitchen next door and it jolts Yaz wide awake. Throwing off the duvet covers, she hurries barefoot in her pajamas to where the sound originated. Entering the room, she sees the Doctor standing in front of a counter, frozen still, her arm up as if she’s still holding the mug.

Yaz rushes over to see her crying, breathing quick and shallow. 

“Doctor,” she tries to get her attention, tries to ground her. “Doctor, I’m here, okay? I’m here. Listen to my voice,” 

Her head turns slightly. 

“I’m here, right here. You’re on the TARDIS, you’re okay, you’re safe, okay? Try and look at me, Doctor,”

They catch eye contact. Her eyes are panic-ridden, full of despair and loneliness. “Yaz,” she whispers. “It’s so dark. It’s so dark. It’s so lonely.”

“I know, Doctor, I know. But you’re not there anymore, okay? Can you sit down with me?” She nods. “Hold my hand,”

She guides the Doctor down to sit cross legged, whilst she kneels in front. “I need you to breathe with me now, okay? Count to 10,”

Regulating her breathing took several minutes. The Doctor had to keep stopping - she felt bile rise in her throat every time she tried to take a deep breath, her lungs restricted, her chest aching. Her throat burned as she sobbed, but as Yaz grounded her, her cries became lighter.

Just as Yaz squeezes her shoulder and looks her in the eye, concerned, the Doctor clears her throat and says, “I’m okay, Yaz. Sorry you had to see that. You can go to bed now, I’ll clean up the mess.”

“No, Doctor. I’m staying.” They both stand up, the Timelord blinking profusely from her own sudden movement, obviously lightheaded. “I’ll clean up. Don’t even try to help.”

“Yaz, I’m serious, I’m okay.”

“Doctor, remember what I said earlier? Let your guard down?”

The Doctor scrunched her nose in defeat and sat down on a stool by the breakfast bar. It was only now, as she becomes aware of her surroundings again, that she notices Yaz’s pajamas and the wildness of her hair. Wearing an oversized old t-shirt and some pajama bottoms, she looks so _cosy_ , and it pulls a tug at the corner of her lips, just a little bit. 

“Sorry for waking y’, also,” she piped up.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad y’ did. Wouldn’t have been able to help y’ otherwise,” she picked up the last few shards with a dustpan and brush.

“Ah. I’d have been fine. Used to it.”

“Well,” she pours the shards into the bin, “I’d rather have been there anyway.”

Both women sit at the counter over steaming hot cups of tea. It’s a comfortable silence - the first one they’ve had the time they’ve been back on the ship. After a while, Yaz looks over to see the blonde twiddling her thumbs, like she’s arguing with herself whether to say something or not. 

“Just say it, Doctor. Can tell you want to say something.”

“Okay,” she coughs. “I just want y’ to know I would never deliberately leave you behind. I wouldn’t leave y’ for a week let alone ten months. I would go back n’ change it all, but… y’ know. Too late now.”

“I know it’s not your fault, I- I was too clouded by anger to realise that when y’ came. Up ‘til today, really. I’m sorry,”

“Okay, I-I’m glad y’ know. I just, well, don’t want y’ to think I would do somethin’ like that.”

“No, of course not.”

The last sips of tea were drunk around five minutes later. Remnants of the huge amount of sugar in the Doctor’s drink were at the bottom of the mug, so she scooped it out with her finger to eat. 

To the look of disgust on Yaz’s face, the Doctor replies, “Can’t let it go t’ waste! Also, y’ can’t judge me. Haven’t had anythin’ sweet in a few decades.”

Yaz tries not to let her sadness show at that comment whilst taking away the mugs. “Ah. Fair enough then. Definitely justifies three tablespoons of sugar.” She says sarcastically.

“Always had a sweet tooth, Yaz.”

The Doctor walks her back to her room, despite it being next door. She tells herself it doesn’t mean anything because it’s on the way to the console, anyway.

“Stay this time?” Yaz asks in the doorway. “Just tonight? Guard down n’ all that?”

She draws in a sharp breath before swallowing. Yaz watches her throat bob. “Okay.”

The brunette is upset when she doesn’t join her under the duvet and instead takes a seat in the armchair next to her. One day at a time, she reminds herself. 

“Doctor, what was prison like?” Yaz looks at her sitting sideways, legs draping over the arms of the chair, her head tilted back slightly. 

“I should take you to the Moons of Priary one day, Yaz. Just remembered it. There’s three of them, and they all have a different race, language, culture n’ food on all of ‘em, but they’re all united in one aspect - they’re all governed by the same government! I’ve been there-” Yaz rolls over to face the other way. Changing the subject isn’t what she wanted. The Doctor halts her sentence and takes a breath. 

“Stayed in my cell for 20 hours, exercise twice a day for two. A block of the-stars-know-what was given for me t’ eat three times a day. Just enough to keep m’ going. Showers if y’ were lucky - a few times a year. Most species clean themselves or just don’t need to wash, so they only open them sometimes. It was fine, just… just lonely. And boring. Very boring. Y’ were mostly okay if y’ followed the rules, so the first decade was hard. Was very gobby to the guards. But after that I kind of just gave up and tried to get through the days as quickly as I could.”

Yaz rolls back over to face her. “Thank you for telling me. M’ sorry. Bet y’ had a nice shower when y’ got out, though.” She tries to lighten the mood. 

The Doctor chuckles. “Yeah. Was good. Time to sleep now, Yaz,”

“Mm.” Yaz makes herself comfortable and accepts the conversation is over. “G’night,”

Artificial sun flickers through the blinds and wakes Yasmin up from her sleep. The armchair next to her bed is empty.

She has a much needed shower, brushes her hair, cleans her teeth and gets dressed before walking to the kitchen next to her. A potent, sweet smell grows more intense as she gets closer. Pots and pans clanging and little yelps (she can’t tell if they’re out of joy or misery) can be heard too.

“Morning,” Yaz sits on a barstool, the same as the night before. 

The Timelord turns around from where she stands in front of the stove. She’s holding a saucepan with pancake batter sizzling in it, her coat off, slung over one of the chairs, and her sleeves rolled up. Something about seeing her do human-y homely things makes Yaz’s cheeks warm up.

“Ah! Yaz! You’re just in time for the greatest pancake flip you’ll ever see,”

“Alright, surprise me,” she tuts.

The blonde counts down before launching the pancake into the air and, surprisingly, catching it again. 

“Okay, that was pretty surprising,” Yaz claps and the Doctor grins.

“Told you,” she continues to watch over the batter. “Taught m’self when y’ lot were home one time n’ I had nothing to do. Thought I’d come out ‘ere and make some for us today, been craving the American style pancakes for so long.”

“Did y’ get any sleep? Can’t imagine that chair was comfortable,”

“Ah, can sleep anywhere, me,” she adds the cooked pancake to the stack. “Got a few hours, before I woke up n’ came out ‘ere, been ‘ere for an hour or so,” 

“So that kip after being rescued wasn’t enough, was it?”

“Just didn’t want t’ be a nuisance, Yaz, is all. Sorry for lying,”

Turning off the stove, she takes some berries and maple syrup out of the fridge. She places the stack down on the counter along with other plates and sits herself down next to Yaz. 

“S’okay,” they both tuck into the food. “Thanks, Doc,”

The nickname makes them both think of Graham and Ryan. “Wonder what the boys are up to,” the blonde says through a mouthful of food.

“Ryan texted me, said they were going to a village in Finland. Mentioned a troll invasion. I’ll show y’, they sent me a pic,” Yaz gets out her phone and shows her an selfie of both boys holding up their psychic papers and grinning. The Doctor smiled, her eyes doing that special kind of glint again, as if she’s already grieved their exit. 

“Glad they’re doing well,”

“Yeah,” Yaz puts away her phone. “These pancakes are so bloody good, I honestly were expecting them to be inedible,”

“Oi! I’m not that bad a cook! You loved my lasagna!”

Yaz just looks at her.

“You pretended to like it?!”

“It were blue, Doctor! And were jelly-like!”

The Doctor huffs. “Well, the villagers I met on Planet 607 liked it,”

Yaz laughed. “What’re the plans for today?”

“Plans? Haven’t made plans,”

“What about…” she chews her lip. “The beach? You could defo do with some sun n’ it’d be good to do somethin’.”

“As long as y’ come in the water with me,”

They finish their pancakes topped with berries and maple syrup (the Doctor’s drenched with the syrup, of course) before heading to get changed into their swimwear. 

Showing off skin after spending decades in a dark, stone prison in which solitary confinement just means torture, isn’t exactly what the Doctor wanted, so she opts for a TARDIS blue full-piece and a white top over it, with some denim jeans. 

Yaz comes into the console room wearing a red full-piece and an oversized top, holding a bag full of towels and sunscreen. The Doctor nearly keys in the completely wrong destination when she sees her, and immediately tells herself to get it together. 

“Ready?” The Doctor manages to say. 

“Yep,” 

The ship lands right on the top of the beach, facing the sea. Yaz gives a wordless thank you to the TARDIS for getting them to the right place without any fuss or life-threatening danger. 

Sun casts down on the hot sand and reflects on the small waves lapping up to the shore. It’s incredibly empty, the whole space for them to use, so they set up at the perfect spot, close to the water but also to the police box. Yaz lays out two towels whilst the Doctor props up an umbrella for shade. 

“Gonna come in the water?” She jumps up after they’ve been laying down for a while.

“You’re not going out in those denim jeans, are you?”

“Erm, well, I was just gonna, well, keep ‘em on-”

“They’ll feel like cardboard if y’ get ‘em wet.” Yaz squints up at her. “It’s up to you, obviously, but there’s no need to be insecure, or anythin’, okay? You’ll get proper hot in them too, even if y’ don’t go in the water,”

“Right, well,” she slides them off, terrified of Yaz commenting on how thin her thighs have become, or the bruises dotted down her legs. 

“Let me just put on some sunscreen,” she takes off her top and the Doctor gulps. “Y’ want some?” she holds out the bottle. “Actually, should probably do it for you. Doubt you’ll do it properly,” she teases. “Come, sit here,” she pats the area in front of her. 

The Doctor obliges, sitting cross legged as her companion rubs the lotion into the back of her neck, hand slipping under the collar of her top. She suddenly feels herself become very hot. Yaz moves on to her arms, then legs. They both know each other are thinking about the blotches of purple, red and blue on her skin. She freezes when Yaz stops for a moment and looks like she’s going to say something.

“Can y’ pass me the other bottle?”

She lets out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, thankful that her injuries weren’t given a mention. “That one’s run out already?”

“Only had a little left,” she says as she receives the bottle. 

It becomes even more intimate when Yaz continues, her hands now on her thighs. Her touch was so soft, so gentle, so careful, using the utmost precision to protect every area from the sun, her touch even lighter over her bruises and scars. Just when the Doctor feels a bead of sweat roll down her temple, she finishes and moves on to her face.

She puts some onto her cheeks, nose and forehead, before massaging it in, as if applying makeup. The Doctor doesn’t close her eyes and so the two keep catching eye contact until Yaz is finished and begins applying it on herself. 

“Are y’ done now?” she nags five minutes later. 

“Someone’s impatient,” Yaz flips the lid closed and stands up. 

“Sorry,” the Doctor gets up too. “How about now?”

Yaz chuckles. “Yeh,”

“i’ll race you,”

“It’s on,”

The two women run, flicking up the sand as they go, and reach the water in seconds. Yaz uses her hand to toss water at the blonde, and receives a flick of water back. 

“Just ‘cos y’ lost the race!” Yaz teases as they walk out to deeper water.

“Shut up! It was a tie!”

“That’s something a loser would say,” Yaz grins. The Doctor’s competitive nature had certainly stuck with her all that time and it was oh so easy to pluck at.

“Not a loser!” She dives into the water and is lost under the waves, until Yaz feels a hand on her leg.

She bursts out laughing and yells, “Doctor!” 

Yaz submerges herself too, opening her eyes and seeing the Doctor’s hair dancing so softly around her head, carried by the water. Her face looks so young for a moment. It’s about thirty seconds or so before Yaz comes up to the surface again, joined by the Doctor. 

They don’t say anything at first. 

But then.

“Doctor,” she begins, but doesn’t know what else to say. So she leans in and plants her lips on the blonde’s. Her heart is drumming in her chest as she lifts her hands to cup her jaw, and once she touches her skin, she feels the Doctor’s hand pull them away. She moves her head back to see the Doctor look almost ill.

“Yaz, I-”

Yaz’s smile quickly wipes from her face and is replaced with almost disappointment. “Ah yeah. You’re gonna lecture me about the fact we can’t have happiness because I’ll die one day. Forgot you’re like that.” She starts swimming back until she can walk, and returns to the TARDIS. The Doctor doesn’t try to follow her.

Hours pass before Yaz finally takes a shower. The salt is dry on her skin and she becomes frustrated trying to scrub it off, like she’s trying to scrub off any trace of that beach, of that water. She’s done after an hour, and returns to her room. She steps in and something catches her eye.

The stars on her ceiling are fixed.

Every colour she could imagine is in the galaxy being projected onto her ceiling, swirling, mixing, like a cocktail of the universe. The stars are twinkling and flickers of light sometimes shoot by. It’s the same galaxy that was projected the worst night of her being ill, the one she’d told the Doctor was her favourite. While she was vomiting, or crying, or whining in pain, the Doctor remained by her side. She remained the entire night, in fact, their bodies always touching, whether it be a hand on her shoulder, keeping her hair back while she retched over the toilet bowl, or wrapping her arms round her shivering body while she tried to sleep. 

Yaz buries her head in her hands. There’s a knock on her open door.

The Doctor stands in the doorway. “Brought you a cup-”

She’s cut off when Yaz throws her arms round the woman, nearly spilling the tea. When she pulls away, the Doctor places the cups down and looks at her tear-ridden face. 

“I fixed the projection for y’, did y’ see,” she says when Yaz doesn’t speak.

“I love it. Thank you.” 

“Glad. Told y’ it was on the top of me list,”

Yaz nods. “I owe you an apology,” she swallows, “I’ve been so difficult, so angry, to a woman that doesn’t deserve it. I’ve blamed you for something you had no control over. I’ve been so confusing and so driven by my emotions. I’m sorry for being so horrible.”

“I forgive you, Yaz.” She looks down at her feet and fidgets with her hands. “I didn’t, didn’t actually mind that, er, kiss, I just wanted to make sure you were sure, is all. I didn’t want you to have done it in the spur of the moment and not have meant it,”

“I definitely meant it. I meant it so much. It’s all I’ve really wanted to do, er, since I met you,”

The Doctor gives the smallest smirk. “Yeah,” she looks up, “me too.”

“And I know you’re scared. I just, I want you to realise that not letting yourself have feelings just makes it worse. They won’t go away. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

The Doctor nods. “I had a lot of time to think in that prison. I had a lot of time to reflect and think about my life. And I kind of realised what you’ve told me today m’self a few years in. But it feels like I forgot it all when I came out. Went back t’ old habits. Old lies. It’s easy to slip back into when you’ve done it for so long,” she pauses. “So thanks for reminding me.” 

“Anytime, space girl. Thanks for the beach day today, too,” Yaz smiles. “Wanna watch the stars with me?” Yaz asks after a moment, gesturing to the ceiling.

“Wouldn’t wanna do anythin’ else,'' she closes the door, kicks off her boots and slides off her coat. They both lay upon the bed, staring up at the cosmos. 

“I remember the night y’ told me this was your favourite,” the Doctor whispers, “I hated seeing y’ so sick,”

“Y’ probably saw me at my worst. Y’ took very good care of me though,”

“Y’ think?”

“Course!” Yaz turns her head and looks at her. “Best doctor I’ve had,”

The Doctor smiles and looks at her too. Yaz props herself up by her elbow and leans in, touching the blonde’s lips with her own, electricity coursing through their bodies, the touch electrified. Yaz cups her cheeks, stroking her skin with her thumb. 

The kiss ends after a minute or so, enough time for them to appreciate the way their lips fit together and their heartbeats drum in time. The Doctor looks ill again, though, when they pull away.

“Doctor, y’ okay? That wasn’t bad, was it?”

“No, no. I jus’ get nervous, I think,”

Yaz smiles. “Poor thing. Thousands of years old and y’ still can’t kiss without getting flustered? I must be special,”

“Hey! I told y’ before, I’m jus’ a bit socially awkward. I’ll get better. Usually I’m fantastic, but it’s been a while,”

“Guess you’ll have to practice with me then, hm? Can’t have you lookin’ like you’re gonna be sick every time we kiss, can we?”

“Shh!” They both laugh. Yaz looks at the Doctor as they do, noticing the way her nose crinkles and her eyes look so young, and how her happiness looks genuine. 

The brunette slides under the duvet after a few minutes, and motions for the Timelord to join her. Everything in the blonde’s body tells her not to, and to leave, to never come close to Yaz again, to save herself from future pain, but she soon pulls the duvet over her and shifts her body closer to the woman next to her anyway. Breaking old habits, she thinks, breaking old habits. 

Yasmin Khan knows there’s a long way to go for both of them and their relationship, but she’s just happy to have the Doctor back for now, happy to drift away to sleep with her head resting on her chest, listening to the soft double heartbeat of the woman she so dearly missed for so long.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos n comments are very much appreciated!!


End file.
